


The Sentry

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458)



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 22:18:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James
Summary: When T'Pring nears her Time, Spock is called to Vulcan





	The Sentry

**Author's Note:**

> First printed in Mirror Reflections. The stories in this zine follow each other, maintaining continuity.

The Sentry  
  
by Sara S Reynolds  
  
aka Fiona James  


  
  
The family seated round the table waited with varying degrees of patience for Matriarch T'Pau to indicate her willingness to rise and then - Sanhar hoped - remove herself. No weakling himself, he was reduced to quivering nervousness whenever his formidable mother-in-law visited, while his wife T'Pras, who one day would rule her family as inflexibly as her mother, became a model of filial obedience.  
  
T'Pau looked approvingly round the faces of her family, studying each in turn.  
  
She paused as her eyes rested on T'Pring, her oldest granddaughter, who out of all the family was the only one who had the courage to defy the Matriarch openly... on occasion.  
  
T'Pring was certainly on her best behaviour today... but it seemed to the observant T'Pau that her good manners were somewhat forced. It would not take much to make her forget them; she looked to be holding her temper with difficulty.  
  
T'Pau's eyes completed the circuit of the table, then turned to her daughter. "T'Pras, I would speak with thee." She rose and swept majestically out, her obedient daughter hurrying behind, and not even the rebellious T'Pring wondered at their strict mother's submissiveness.  
  
With the exception of T'Pring, the group round the table seemed to relax the moment the door shut. Slenar, T'Pring's older brother, let out his breath in a wholly undisciplined sigh of relief that would normally have brought down on his erring head the wrath of both parents. Sanhar chose to ignore it; indeed he found himself wishing that he could, without obvious impropriety, echo it.  
  
T'Pring alone remained as still and self-disciplined as she had sat throughout the uncomfortable meal. Slenar glanced at her. _Just like Grandmother T'Pau,_ he thought. At least he wouldn't have to live under the same roof once he was bonded... but by Surak, he was glad that his selected bondmate was a biddable girl of no great strength, whose mother was already dead. He would be in control of his household... when the time came for him to complete his bond... although of course he would have to go along with the fiction that his wife ruled the house.  
  
Sanhar stood and nodded silent permission for his children to leave the table. Then he strode out, wondering what the old ch'ravan had found to criticise this time...  
  


  
***  
 

  
  
T'Pau did not pause until she reached the privacy of her daughter's bedchamber. There, she swung round to glare at T'Pras.  
  
"Thee did not tell me that T'Pring is so near her Time."  
  
"T'Pring?" The younger woman was genuinely startled. "Surely not...  she has said nothing to me - "  
  
"Need she? Are thee blind not to recognise the signs? I tell thee, she nears her Time." T'Pau sat in the nearest chair.  
  
T'Pras, forgetting her manners, moved to the window and stood staring, unseeing, out over the garden to the sandy foothills beyond. "Mother, she does not go willingly to this bonding."  
  
T'Pau's brows drew together. "Thee think she will Challenge?"  
  
"No. She said once that that would be foolishness. And I do not think she has a thalorin, anyway." T'Pras sighed. "She may be hiding her condition from me in the vain hope that it will pass."  
  
T'Pau nodded, almost sympathetically. "Many girls do," she agreed. "Why does she object to this bonding?"  
  
"Spock has been off-world and his own master for many years," T'Pras replied simply. "She fears he has grown out of the habit of obedience. And he is of a family that lacks a strong Matriarch as well; Sarek rules his house, and they do not even pretend that his Human wife makes any decisions. She is male-ridden, and seems perfectly happy to be so."  
  
"Certainly Spock has grown up without Matriarchal discipline," T'Pau agreed, "but T'Pring is strong; she will easily impose her will on Spock, as thee did on Sanhar, as I did on Suvak. The women of our family have always been strong, daughter. She need not fear." The old woman tapped the arm of her chair thoughtfully.  "I think we should not wait for Spock to respond to a call that is being suppressed," she said finally. "I will have his ship summoned here... "  
  


  
***

  
Lieutenant Uhura swung round from her console.    "Call coming in from Starfleet, Captain."  
  
"On the screen, Lieutenant." Kirk scowled to himself. If this was another of Starfleet's spot checks or makework exercises, damned if he wouldn't apply for a posting to Starfleet Headquarters and get a knife between his new superior's ribs the first possible chance...  
  
"Enterprise from Starfleet Command. Urgent. You are to abort your present mission and divert to Vulcan - " Kirk glanced over towards his Science Officer. "There, Lieutenant Commander Spock is to report to Bhan'ra T'Pau immediately."  
  
It seemed to Kirk that his First Officer stiffened momentarily.  
  
So - either Spock knew what all this was about or he at least thought he knew... and he didn't like it.  
  
"Acknowledge, Lieutenant."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
Kirk rose and sauntered over to the science console. "Bhan'ra T'Pau?" he asked softly. "You're moving in distinguished circles, Mr Spock."  
  
"Not from choice, Captain, I assure you."  
  
"You do know why you're wanted, I take it?"  
  
"Yes, Captain," His lips set in an obstinate line. "May I be excused? I have some work to finish in the Science Lab."  
  
Kirk watched as the Vulcan left, his aide at his heels, then turned to give the order to change course. _If Chekov doesn't have the new course ready by now..._ he thought - the navigator was getting just a little too cocky these days; Kirk would be glad of a valid excuse to slap him back down a bit.  
  
"New course laid in, sir," Chekov responded immediately, and Kirk seated himself, scowling slightly, and thinking furiously. Bhan'ra T'Pau... one of the most influential women in the powerful Matriarchal culture of Vulcan, if not the most important. Why would she want to see Spock - a mere male?  
  
And... was there any profit, any advantage, to be had from this incident?  
  


  
***

  
  
When Spock failed to appear for duty next day, Kirk, his lips white with anger, ordered Uhura to call his quarters. The resulting crashing sounds filled the Bridge, and Uhura yanked her earphone out hastily.  
  
When silence fell, she said nervously, "He appears to have smashed the viewer rather than respond."  
  
Kirk himself was looking slightly subdued at this reminder of Vulcan strength. A quick glance round showed the rest of the Bridge crew also looking thoughtful, and he half smiled.  
  
Yes. It would do Spock no harm to remind everyone that the Vulcan's temper was sometimes uncertain... and once unleashed, destructive.  
  
He stood briskly. "Mr Chekov, you have the con."  
  
In two minds about leaving it in the hands of the ambitious Sulu, he decided that he preferred to give Chekov, cocky though he was becoming, the experience. He was fast coming to distrust Chekov; he had caught a speculative gleam in the young officer's eye more than once of late when he had believed himself to be unobserved. Kirk made a mental note to set one of his aides the task of keeping an eye on Chekov as he entered the turbolift, his on-duty aide at his heels.  
  
As he rode down to Deck 5 he was forced to admit to himself a certain trepidation. He trusted Spock - more, perhaps, than it was wise to trust anyone, but in the past Spock had proved that he did not want command.  There had been a couple of times when Spock, if he had wanted to, could have rid himself of his senior officer and nobody would have been able to prove anything. But with the Vulcan in a short temper...  It might be wiser to ask McCoy's advice first. McCoy knew something about Vulcan psychology.  
  
But Sickbay was a place to avoid. Kirk did not consider himself squeamish but the amount of suffering to be seen in Sickbay was... sickening. No wonder so many medical staff became indifferent; it was the only way they could survive. McCoy, he knew, was not yet indifferent to the suffering of his patients, but he was getting bitter.  
  
It annoyed Kirk, ruthless though he was, to see a man who did care being slowly destroyed by the system. McCoy had come into Space because he had known that Starship surgeons had better facilities than civilian ones.  
  
Better? That would be funny if it wasn't so meaningless. Medicine came a long, long way down Starfleet's list of priorities. Funding for it was almost non-existent, treatment for illness totally non-existent.  
  
Only basic surgery was ever provided. As Captain, he had the right to demand painkillers if he was injured; no-one else on the ship had that right, not even the First Officer. Kirk knew, too, that McCoy had never forgiven the Surgeon-General's office for suppressing the discovery he had made of a cheap and easily synthesized painkiller, on the grounds that using it would soften the rank and file.  
  
He turned into Sickbay. McCoy was working at his desk; he rose and crossed to Kirk. "Well, Captain?"  
  
Kirk motioned his aide to remain beside the door, and drew McCoy back to his desk, glad that the adjoining ward was empty. "I need information," he said bluntly. "About Vulcans in general. Do you know of anything that would turn a normal, self-controlled Vulcan into a short-tempered animal literally overnight?"  
  
"Spock?"  
  
"We got a message yesterday directing us to Vulcan; Spock has to report to T'Pau when we get there. He excused himself as soon as the orders came through; this morning he smashed his intercom rather than answer a call to the Bridge."  
  
McCoy frowned. "I've never heard of anything like that. It's not in any of the texts, that sort of behaviour. But then Vulcans are notoriously tight-lipped about anything concerning emotional aberration, and that does sound like some sort of emotional reaction."  
  
Kirk nodded. "I was afraid you'd say something like that. Okay - forget I asked." He turned and strode out. He went on down the corridor. Stev'v, Spock's chief aide, stood outside his superior's door in the relaxed position that could alter instantly, making him an efficient and wholly ruthless killing machine. He came to attention as Kirk approached, but held up a hand almost apologetically as Kirk paused, turning towards the door.  
  
"Sir, Lieutenant Commander Spock is... indisposed."  
  
"Serious? Has he seen McCoy?" The question, which Kirk knew was unnecessary, was abrupt. Kirk was never quite sure how to react to his First Officer's operatives.  
  
"No, sir. He will be all right once we have been to Vulcan. There is... a cure for what ails him, but it is only obtainable on Vulcan."  
  
Kirk stared at the man for a moment. "If it is not serious there can be no reason to deny me entry."  
  
Shock, instantly suppressed, showed on the Vulcan face. Kirk was not exactly challenging the aide's position - the man had no right to prevent the Captain from entering the First Officer's quarters while its occupant was inside - but it was rarely that even Kirk queried Stev'v's authority as Spock's senior operative.  
  
Finally Stev'v moved aside reluctantly; Kirk pressed the buzzer. No need to do further violence to Stev'v's susceptibilities by walking straight in, as he had the right, as Captain, to do.  
  
"Come." The voice sounded reluctant but resigned; as Kirk entered, motioning his aide to remain outside, the Vulcan, without raising his eyes from the desk viewer he was studying, said quietly, "What do you want, Captain?"  
  
Kirk half smiled, not really surprised that Spock had realised who it was. There were few people that Stev'v would have permitted past him, and even fewer who would have tried.  
  
"You know what I want, Mr Spock." It was the Starship Captain rather than the friend who spoke briskly. "You have not reported sick; why then are you not on duty?"  
  
Spock looked at him, hesitant, reluctant to answer. Kirk saw the indecision on his face; remembering the Vulcan's surprising assistance with his own recent problem*, he choked back his now instinctive, though initially hard-learned, ruthless demand for an answer and instead said quietly, "Come on, Spock - there has to be a reason." This time it was the friend who was speaking. "You know you can trust me... don't you?"  
  
"Trust?" Spock asked. There was a wry quality rather than a cynical one in his voice, and Kirk found himself sympathising with it.  
  
"Yes," he said softly. "Trust. Just recently you gave me proof that I can trust you on a personal level - why, therefore, should you not trust me? I have no reason to want rid of you." A logical argument to help along the emotional one might just work.  
  
"That is true."  
  
Spock still sounded undecided, and Kirk came to a wholly uncharacteristic decision. "Would it help if I promised to regard anything you say as totally confidential?"  
  
Spock's jaw fell open in complete and uncontrollable astonishment. Confidential? For Humans that was unprecedented; practically an invitation for a court-martial in Starfleet. Even among Vulcans it was unheard-of except within the Family.  
  
And yet... he did trust Kirk, if only because, as the Human had pointed out, Kirk had no reason to regard him as an enemy. "It has to do with... biology," he said slowly.  
  
Kirk looked at him, puzzled. "Biology? As in reproduction?" he asked.  
  
Spock nodded. "We Vulcans have a reproductive cycle, similar in some ways to the Human one but of longer duration. where the Human cycle is monthly, the Vulcan one lasts between one and approximately seven Vulcan years. The major difference is that while Humans can ignore their cycle if they wish, Vulcans cannot. When the female enters the fertile part of her cycle, her mate is drawn to her, must... copulate with her. If he does not, she becomes mad; the madness is communicated telepathically to him, and he too... The message I got from Vulcan... my mind knows it now. My...  The mate selected for me approaches her first Fertile Time.  I am called to her. I... cannot resist."  
  
"I didn't realise you're married." Stunned, Kirk commented on the first thing that entered his head.  
  
"By your terms, I am not." He sighed. "I was handfasted at seven years of age to a girl child of my family's selection. Not exactly a marriage - yet more than a betrothal. I cannot refuse the call."  
  
"At seven?" Spock had been away from Vulcan for fully eighteen years.    "How well do you know her?"  
  
"Not at all." Spock smiled mirthlessly. "Our parents do attempt to ensure some degree of compatibility... but it is not infallible, especially when there is a desire to join two Houses together. T'Pring has never attempted to contact me, either verbally or through the pre-bond, nor has she replied to any of my admittedly few attempts to contact her. I know that she does not want me any more than I want her... but we were selected for each other, and I cannot refuse."  
  
"Not very logical, is it?" Kirk said half sympathetically, knowing that Spock's logical fatalism had accepted his fate. "To condemn you both to a life of unhappiness... "  
  
Spock drew a shuddering breath.    "The woman can refuse... there is procedure. She can choose a thalorin - a champion - to challenge the chosen groom. If that happens, the two males fight... the loser dies...  and the woman then becomes the property of the winner . She loses her right to be Matriarch and must forever bow to the rule of her husband and, in due course, her daughter. The penalty normally discourages Challenge," he added wryly.  
  
"You think then that since she doesn't want you, she might do that?" Kirk asked uneasily.  
  
"No... No, I do not think so. She will not abandon her right to be Matriarch. As I remember her, she was a most forceful child, not one to accept readily the rule of another. Yet I do not trust her." He sighed wearily, then looked up. "In the days before childhood bonding, when Warriors competed for their brides, it could happen that a Warrior who desired as bride a female  who had accepted another, did not abide by her decision... If he could enter the marriage chamber and kill the bridegroom, he would then claim the woman as his wife. The bridegroom then, if he was wise, asked a friend to guard the door.  It is still custom that a male be attended by his closest friend on his wedding night. I would be honoured if you would agree to 'guard the door' for me."  
  
Kirk hesitated for a second. "Even though I'm an Outworlder?"  
  
"There is no rule that says the friend must be Vulcan."  
  
"In that case, I would be glad to oblige, Mr Spock."  
  


  
***  
  


  
Bhan'ra T'Pau met them in an undecorated, functional office that made Spock's spartan quarters look positively ornate. She looked coldly at Kirk,  and spoke abruptly in Vulcan to Spock. Kirk's grasp of the language was not sufficient to permit him to follow the rapid, idiomatic speech; Spock replied in Standard.  
  
"He is my friend, brought to guard the door according to custom. There is no rule that such a friend be Vulcan. Would you shame me by expecting me to use one of my hired man for this duty?" Kirk knew, then, that his own instinctive reaction was correct; it _was_ unusual for an  Outworlder to participate in any Vulcan ceremony. "It is my right," Spock finished.  
  
T'Pau turned and regarded Kirk consideringly, using the moment to think rapidly. They had been correct; his years off Vulcan, his Human mother, meant that Spock did not have the usual respect for his women-folk. No properly-brought-up Vulcan male would have dreamed of defying T'Pau with those words; if the women permitted their men to follow  outdated and meaningless custom it did not automatically give them the right to do so! And the Human... Kirk was returning her near hostile look confidently, the son of a traditionally patriarchal society facing the representative of a powerful Matriarchy. It was almost a contest of wills, cut off short when T'Pau returned her attention to Spock; Kirk knew that T'Pau had not conceded defeat; but had merely-withdrawn from the lists for the time being.  
  
"Very well. It is, after all, an unimportant custom."  
  
Kirk thought he could understand her attitude. It was a _male_ custom, designed to protect the bridegroom. It would be logical for a woman to accept as stronger a male who managed to murder her original choice o£ mate, back in Warrior times before Vulcan became the Matriarchy it now was. The woman would lose nothing, for she risked nothing.  
  
"Attend me!" T'Pau rose from her seat, and without looking back, strode to the door. Kirk gave Spock an encouraging grin as they turned to follow her.  
  
She led them to a large hall. It stood empty, and a look of displeasure crossed her face; then another door opened, and a small group entered; an older male and female, a young woman in a silver-white dress whose face wore a distant, detached look, and two younger girls; two men carrying frames to which bells were attached, two more who carried bundles, a fifth carrying a drawn sword; and behind them a mixed group of males and females, all young... the witnesses. Kirk knew from what Spock had told him that the bundles contained the weapons to be used should Challenge be called; the drawn sword was for use only if cowardice was seen during the Challenge.  
  
Spock had coached his Captain on the procedure; the Human hoped now that he would remember it all. It was one thing to talk over what would happen in the privacy of the Vulcan's quarters, quite another to do it when the penalty would be, at best, shaming Spock in the eyes of his future in-laws.  
  
Spock remained behind T'Pau until the elderly Matriarch seated herself on the large throne-like chair at one end of the hall, then he turned and crossed to stand beside the huge gong that hung suspended from the roof on the left-hand side, a little way in front of the throne. Kirk followed him and stood behind his left shoulder.  
  
The witnesses arranged themselves behind T'Pau's chair; the older couple stood, the male at T'Pau's left hand, the female at her right. Those would be the bride's parents; Spock had said that his own parents would not be present. Then the young woman - T'Pring, that was it - walked smoothly across the hall to the smaller gong that hung on the right-hand side of the hall, the two younger girls at her heels. _Beautiful,_ Kirk thought, _but I'd as soon try to bed a statue!_ She looked to be a cold, selfish bitch.  
  
One of the bell-bearers moved with her, and stood behind her; the other crossed the hall to stand behind Spock. The remaining three men, those carrying the weapons, remained standing just inside the door by which they had entered the hall.  
  
With everyone in position, T'Pau stood, and began to speak. Kirk lost track of what was being said almost immediately, and thanked his lucky stars that he had no active part to play. Every now and then one - or both - of the bell-bearers would shake their bellframes, giving a musical tinkling. Spock reached for the beater hooked to a stand beside the gong, and struck hard, the deep sound reverberating, filling the hall. T'Pring struck hers, less hard; its lighter, higher note harmonised with the deep sound and, despite the lighter stroke, lingered as the note from Spock's gong died away. Spock strode forward; Kirk, mindful of his instructions, waited until T'Pring joined Spock before moving forward to stand at his friend's shoulder. The two young girls stood in line with him behind T'Pring.  
  
The couple turned to face T'Pau; she spoke decisively. After what seemed a lengthy pause, but Kirk realised was only a modest second, T'Pring  answered. T'Pau spoke again, and Spock answered. Finally, T'Pau uttered a short sentence - the Vulcan equivalent of 'I now pronounce thee man and wife'?  
  
T'Pring turned towards the door by which she had entered; Spock followed her, a pace behind. Kirk, remembering his role, followed; the two girls beside him. The doorway was not wide enough for three; remembering his Human manners, as well as Vulcan custom, Kirk paused to allow them to precede him, reflecting wryly that it had been many years since he had bothered to remember that one courtesy that his mother had beaten into him - 'ladies first'. They went along several passages before emerging into an open courtyard where an aircar stood waiting.  
  
Inside it, Spock glanced from his ice-faced wife to his friend. "T'Pring," he said, "This is James Kirk, who will guard the door for us." T'Pring gave a polite nod, her expression uninterested. Kirk returned the nod, keeping a hold of his temper only with an effort. How dare this... female... treat them as if they were completely unimportant? The best Captain, the best First Officer in Starfleet... he had heard that whispered often. Too often, perhaps, for as many as it impressed there were as many for whom it was, or could be, a challenge. Then he remembered why she dared. On Vulcan males were of little account. Warriors, necessary for the production of children... but a Warrior's life expectancy is not prolonged, and for continuity and least disruption, the women perforce ruled.  
  
The air car took them to a big house - that of T'Pras, T'Pring's mother, Spock had told him, where T'Pring would continue to live until Spock's Warrior days were over and he returned to provide his wife with a house of her own. He could, of course, provide her with a house even though he continued to serve in Starfleet, but Kirk already knew that he would not do this; he would leave her where she would remain subservient to her mother, where she would not become accustomed to ruling in his absence; he intended to challenge her domination. Kirk decided he did not envy his friend.  
  
Even as they left the aircar others appeared, landing T'Pau and the bride's parents, then some of the witnesses. Kirk caught one of the younger men - he discovered later that it was Slenar, T'Pring's brother - giving Spock a sympathetic glance.  
  
A meal was waiting for them; an uneasy meal, with T'Pring coldly ignoring any right her new husband had to her attention. Kirk was aware of the continued sympathy directed towards Spock by Slenar. Gods, it even the bride's brother felt sorry for Spock, just what sort of bitch had his friend married?  
  
Finally, however, T'Pring rose. She inclined her head gracefully towards T'Pau. "With your... permission, Bhan'ra," she said almost perfunctorily - a ceremonial phrase spoken without meaning.  
  
T'Pau nodded, a slightly menacing expression in her eyes as she realised the subtle challenge to her position. Yes; once T'Pring's Time was past it would be necessary to remind her once again that her grandmother was not in her dotage.  
  
Spock rose too, and bowed towards T'Pau. Kirk stood, remembering that he must follow Spock; he too bowed to the wizened Matriarch, pragmatic enough to know that he must follow Vulcan custom, though it galled him to have to kowtow thus to a woman because she expected it, considered it her due... Not for the first time, he suspected that one of Spock's. reasons for joining Starfleet was to get away from this female dominance. Then he walked briskly after his friend.  
  


  
***

  
  
It was incredibly boring.  
  
Two men standing guard together would be able to talk, which would help pass the time, but alone, knowing that it was merely an empty custom... Kirk half debated sitting down, leaning against the wall and permitting himself to doze, but he quickly rejected the notion, tempting though it was. The duty might be purely nominal nowadays, but Kirk fully appreciated its importance to Spock; no, no matter how bored he became, he would not sleep on the job, or even sit in case his eyelids drooped of themselves. He settled into a steady rhythm, pace up the corridor to the corner, turn, pace back, past the door he guarded and on to the junction of this corridor with yet another; turn, pace back...  
  
It was very quiet, here in the dark of the Vulcan night, the corridor lit only by a single lantern hooked outside Spock's door. _Strange,_ Kirk thought. As advanced as they were in other fields the Vulcans seemed to make little or no use of electricity for lighting or heating. Of course, a planet as dry as this probably had little in the way of fossil fuels to burn as a source of electricity, and there was no water-power to provide electricity either. Vulcan had had no spaceflight capacity when Terra discovered her, although it _had_ had such technology in the past. It had no fuel now to waste on researching space flight... and had no dilithium crystals among its minerals, either.  
  
It was very quiet behind the closed door - but now that he came to consider it, he wouldn't really expect Vulcans to cry out during sex as a Human couple would do... Momentarily he wondered how T'Pring was in bed, then dismissed the thought. If her general demeanor was anything to go by, she'd be a right cold fish, unresponsive and unencouraging.  
  
He shivered. It was getting very cold - 'the pre-dawn chill'? He hoped so. He yawned, blinking sleepily... then stiffened, ears straining. Surely that was a footstep?  
  
No. Nothing. Imagination. He resumed his steady pacing, but now his senses were quiveringly alert, instinctively refusing to relax, all the wariness learned through years of dodging assassins awake and subconsciously assessing every sound - every silence.  
  
It was that instinctive awareness of danger that alerted him in time to turn abruptly, in time to avoid the killing blow aimed at his head. Instead, the vicious club caught him a glancing impact that numbed his left arm.  
  
Spock. He must warn Spock. His assailant was depending on silence - so he yelled, "Spock!" He whirled away from the attacker and banged on the door with his clenched right hand. "Spock:" Then he was flung aside; the intruder, ignoring him, threw the door open and plunged in.  
  
Kirk lay where he had fallen for a second gathering his wits, then scrambled up and followed.

 

  
***

  
  
Spock had not expected to enjoy his wedding night, and events proved him correct. T'Pring was fighting her Time every inch of the way, refusing to surrender to the sexual need that was demanding fulfilment. All she would permit herself to do was lie still, unresisting but unresponsive, while Spock tried everything he knew to arouse her. When he finally took her, it might as well have been rape.  
  
He lay beside her, feeling her stiff beside him, totally unrelaxed, and decided that unpleasant though it was, he must do his duty by his wife. So he continued to caress her unmoving body, knowing her to be completely indifferent to him, until he roused again. He took her again, and a third time, before giving up.  
  
Well, with luck he had impregnated her, in which case he could forget about her for the next seven years. If he had not, she would be fertile again in a year and he would be called from wherever he was to serve her.  
  
He allowed his mind to wander to his last shore leave and the unexpected encounter with Chris Chapel - now there was a woman who knew how to respond! Not that he cared particularly for her as a person - but she was certainly good in bed.  
  
He sensed that T'Pring, beside him, could detect the tenor of his thought, but he was unrepentant. It was her own fault. If she would not respond, then in order to serve her he had to think of other, more responsive partners. He felt himself arousing again as he thought of Chapel, and used T'Pring yet again to relieve his need. _I might as well be masturbating,_ he reflected.  
  
The short Vulcan night was drawing to a close; it would soon be dawn. He would rise at dawn, he decided. There was no need to pretend that this night had been more successful than it was. It was safe to assume that T'Pring's family knew exactly how she felt about her marriage.  
  
"Spock! Spock!" A brief, loud bang on the door. He sat up as the door was thrown open. A dark shape plunged in, briefly outlined by the lamp outside the door. He felt T'Pring's hands gripping his arms, holding him back, and realised that she knew who this was. He had been right not to trust her! No, she had not Challenged; she would lose too much. But she had acquiesced in the old custom of Mar'kin that would achieve her purpose even better. He threw her off, and stood, waiting, ears and eyes strained for a sign of his opponent.  
  
Dim light filled the room; Kirk, coming in from the corridor, carrying the lamp. Spock saw his adversary, a man slightly younger than he, armed with a long dagger. Instinct moved him away from the bed just in time; T'Pring had been ready, more than ready; she scrambled out of bed, naked as she was, holding a thin, wicked-looking knife. Kirk sprang forward; knowing that he stood no chance against the adult male he threw himself at the woman. She stabbed wildly, and the knife slashed down his already-numb left arm; then he caught her in his right arm, holding her tightly. It took all his strength, and he knew that he would not be able to hold her like this for long - who would have expected a woman, even a Vulcan woman, to be so strong? He threw her down onto the bed, face down, and hastily wrapped the sheet round her to hold her relatively immobile, then sat on her shoulders, ignoring whatever discomfort she might feel. He turned to watch Spock.  
  
He quickly realised that the stranger was at a disadvantage, armed though he was. Spock was trained in Starfleet unarmed combat, and dodged round the man who must have hoped to catch him at a disadvantage. What he couldn't understand was why the man, once Kirk had raised the alarm, hadn't fled. Then Spock moved - a feint and throw that he had learned from Kirk - and the knife lay on the floor. Kirk could see knowledge of defeat in the stranger's face, but he faced up to Spock resolutely enough. The two men came together, wrestling fiercely; a quick twist, and Spock had the stranger immobilized. And at that, the attacker relaxed completely; he went limp, giving up. And Spock, quietly and deliberately, moved his hands slightly and pressed. There was an audible crack, and the life went out of the man's eyes. Spock lowered him to the floor and straightened. His eyes met Kirk's. "Let her up."  
  
Kirk rose and quietly untangled T'Pring, who stood facing Spock, totally ignoring her nakedness even in the presence of the Human witness. "Who was he?" he asked.  
  
"His name is - was - Stonn," she replied unemotionally.  
  
Spock indicated her clothes. "I suggest you dress, T'Pring. It would be even less seemly for your entire family to see you meet your shame naked." As he spoke he reached for his own clothes.  
  
T'Pring seemed to have some slight difficulty in dressing, for she fumbled with the fastenings in a way that to Kirk seemed strange. But when he moved to help her, more for speed than from sympathy, Spock shook his head. At last she was ready. Much of the fire was gone from her now, and she obeyed without demur when Spock indicated that she should lead the way from the room. Spock paused only long enough to scoop the body of the dead Stonn over his shoulder, saying to Kirk, "Bring the knives." Kirk lifted them, and hurried after his friend, twisting a hastily torn off piece of sheet round his arm as he went in an attempt to stop the bleeding, and carrying the lamp to light their way. At least his arm was no longer numb.  
  
They went to the big dining room where the wedding feast had been held just the previous night. The remains of it were still on the table. Spock pointed to a chair, and T'Pring sat, collapsing limply; Spock dropped the body at her feet. Then he crossed to a small gong and struck it sharply several times. They waited in silence. Outside, the sky began to show grey. The door opened and a young man came in - Slenar. He took in the scene before him and shook his head; and moved to stand beside Kirk. One by one the family arrived, the younger members first, then their parents, and lastly T'Pau. Perhaps five minutes had passed since Spock had struck the gong.  
  
T'Pau took in the tableau as she stood in the doorway, then, face stern, she walked forward. "Thee may speak, husband of my granddaughter."  
  
"Bhan'ra, I took thy granddaughter to wife as has been arranged these many years between thy daughter and my mother. I honoured my side of the bonding, and served her during this night to fulfil her Need, although she made no response to me. Half an hour ago, James Kirk, my t'hy'la, was attacked as he guarded my door; already injured, he yet succeeded in giving me warning. When I attempted to rise to defend myself and the honour of my wife, she sought to hold me back; as I faced my would-be assassin, she stood behind me, a knife ready to plunge into my back. My t'hy'la prevented her. I ask for justice, Bhan'ra T'Pau."

  
T'Pau bent briefly to examine the body of the dead man. "His weapon?"  
  
Spock indicated the knife. She nodded. "And thee were unarmed."  
  
"Yes, Bhan'ra."  
  
She glared at her granddaughter. "T'Pring, explain."  
  
The younger woman straightened. "I did not wish this bonding," she said clearly. "Spock has never been subject to the rule of a Matriarch, for his mother is male-ridden and his grandmother dead. I knew also that he would not be willing to remain at home, but would continue to play at Warrior in his Starfleet. Stonn much admired me, and would have been an obedient and attentive bondmate; but I did not choose to Challenge, for even if Stonn accepted my rule in the house - and he would have done - in public I would have had to defer to him; I would never have been able to be officially Matriarch. I suggested to Stonn therefore that we use the Mar'kin. With Spock dead at his hands, he would automatically become my husband, and no-one would know that I had been willing. Stonn agreed; he always needed someone to tell him what to do. My only miscalculation lay in not realising that Spock would invoke the custom of guarding the door - and that the Human would remain alert." She threw Kirk a look of positive hatred.  
  
T'Pau stiffened, if that were possible for one who already stood so erect. "Spock, my granddaughter admits her guilt. She has been unfaithful to the bond made on her behalf many years ago, and to the vows she swore but yesterday. It is only just that she suffer the penalty."

T'Pring drew in one frightened gasp as Spock turned towards her then she seemed to gather all her courage, and sat unflinching as Spock reached out, gripped her neck firmly, and twisted.  
  
Her neck broken, T'Pring collapsed to the floor and lay half on top of her dead lover.

  
  
***  
  


  
There was remarkably little fuss made thereafter. The dead girl's mother ushered everyone out o£ the room. Slenar whispered to Spock, "You're well rid of her, you know," but other than that nobody said anything. T'Pring's father went off hastily, and returned a few minutes later to say to Spock, "An aircar is ready for you, Spock."  
  
Spock nodded. "I thank you. I grieve with thee for the loss of thy daughter, Sanhar."  
  
Then he turned and, motioning Kirk to follow, he walked out.  
  


  
***

  
  
The aircar took them to the Vulcan Starbase. Kirk was already swaying weakly; loss of blood, combined with the shock, was beginning to take its toll. Spock wasted no time in having them beamed up to the Enterprise, where he knew that McCoy had the incentive to use some of his low stock of drugs on Kirk, rather than allow him to be taken to the Starbase doctor.  
  
Later that day, in Kirk's cabin - the Captain had wasted no time in persuading McCoy to let him transfer from Sickbay to his own quarters - Kirk was able to ask some of the questions that still puzzled him.  
  
"Why didn't Stonn run away once I raised the alarm? And... I thought women had everything their own way on Vulcan. Yet you broke T'Pring's neck, and they stood and let you!"  
  
"If Stonn had not continued with his attack, he would have lost his chance to get T'Pring; the Mar'kin is only legal on the first night of a marriage. He undoubtedly hoped that T'Pring would handicap me sufficiently to let him kill me - and he certainly underestimated you as an opponent. As for the other - a treacherous partner is always punished. Oh. T'Pring had not been physically unfaithful... but in her thoughts she certainly was, for she was plotting to kill me. Just as the woman who Challenges loses her dominant status, the woman in an unsuccessful Mar'kin, where there is evidence that she wishes the intruder to succeed, is executed, for she is being treacherous."  
  
"I see... " Kirk was not sure he understood all the ramifications, but he was quite sure that this was all the explanation he was going to get. He stretched luxuriously, and yawned.  
  
"I will go now, and let you sleep," Spock said softly. "And Jim - thank you. I will not forget... "  
  
"My pleasure, Mr Spock." He watched the Vulcan leave, and as the door slid shut, the figure of Lieutenant Garrovick moved into position. He yawned again, reached up to put the light out, and closed his eyes.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  


**Author's Note:**

> * In an earlier story in the zine Spock saved Kirk's life.


End file.
